


Receptions and Revelations

by Terminallydepraved



Series: Works for Others [29]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Galas, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Self-Lubrication, Suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 11:06:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14999582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: Hank is forced to attend an awards ceremony where the attire is black tie and stifling. Connor attempts to make it bearable, but that comes with a few surprises of its own along the way.





	Receptions and Revelations

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 한국어 available: [Receptions and Revelations (Korean Translation)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15311736) by [lucadris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucadris/pseuds/lucadris)



> So, I had some surprise free time creep up and a very generous individual decided to sponsor a fic. I was told to write what I wanted to write for this fandom, so I did. My friends and I have been really loving the idea of Gavin getting assigned RK900 as a partner and then getting completely outclassed by the RK series's resident ice queen, and I couldn't help but slip a little of that into this as well as a teaser for my next fic for this fandom. Please enjoy!

Hank was miserable.

Not an odd occurrence if he were being honest with himself. Hank spent a good deal of his life miserable, be it in the precinct or sitting at home alone. The addition of Connor made it easier, the bouts of misery less prevalent or debilitating, but when it came to the annual police ceremonies, not even Connor could lighten the weight bowing Hank’s back.

Whoever the fuck decided that cops needed to get dandied up in black tie garb deserved to be strung up by their cumberbund and left for the fuckin’ birds.

“Hank?” a voice called from his side, the one speck of warmth in this desolate auditorium of finery and fakery. “Are you still pouting from before?”

Hank frowned, looking down to spot Connor staring at him with those big brown eyes. “I’m not— When the fuck was I pouting?” he grumbled, shifting on his feet as he one more attempted to loosen the stranglehold his tie had on his trachea. His hand made it to the knot before it was snatched away as quick as could be, Connor intercepting it for what had to be the fifth time that hour.

“You’ve been in a state of considerable distress since I asked you to begin getting ready for tonight,” Connor recited helpfully, if a little less than truthful. Hank rolled his eyes and took back his hand, crossing his arms to keep from trying again when it’d just yield the same result.

“Asked,” Hank scoffed. “You had me sheared like a sheep dog, Connor.”

“I had you cut your hair, Hank,” Connor corrected disapprovingly, lifting one of his slim hands to fix what little hair Hank still boasted on his head. “It was too long for a formal event like this, and you refused to put it back.”

“Did you really have to make them trim my beard to hell and back too?” Hank had tried to stand firm on keeping at least that, but once he was in the chair the whole visit sorta began to blur, the android barber communicating with Connor through that damn cyberlink before Hank could tell her what he wanted done. “I feel naked.”

Connor patted Hank’s arm, the most they probably could get away with in a place this packed with detectives. “You’re hardly naked, Hank,” he chided gently, giving him a bit of a smile. “Don’t you remember? You were quite vocal about how overdressed you felt in this _monkey suit_ I forced you to wear.”

The way he emphasized monkey suit nearly brought a smile to Hank’s face. He’d latched onto the phrase ever since Hank first used it, and he seemed completely enamored with using it himself every chance he got. “Well, I feel like an idiot,” he said quietly, nodding to the faces he recognized as they slowly meandered through the hall. “Look like one too.”

Another pat to his arm. “Another lie,” Connor told him. “You look very handsome.”

Hank rolled his eyes, taking in Connor in his own suit. “Now you’re the one who’s lying,” he muttered, unable to keep from staring at the way the dark black suit clung to Connor’s tapered figure. His body was perfect; there was no getting around that. It meant he wore a suit about as well as a top model might, his long legs made all the longer from the well-measured cut. Connor’s tie was a matte black, cut through with a slash of blue that drew the eye and matched his glowing LED.

“You’re outclassing me without breaking a sweat,” Hank huffed, unable to be jealous. Connor looked good like this. Far better than he could ever hope to match. “I don’t even get why we had to come. It’s not like I’m the one being awarded anything tonight.”

“Because it was a precinct-wide invitation,” Connor told him, sticking close to his side as they walked the perimeter of the room, taking the party in. “As a senior officer it’s your duty to be here to support your younger officers.”

“Yeah, well,” Hank muttered, eyeing the refreshment table located toward the back of the enormous ballroom. “I should get a reward for putting up with them already. Definitely for putting up with this damn tie.”

For some reason Connor’s LED began to cycle yellow. He looked at Hank quizzically. “What sort of reward do you think you’ve earned for something like that?” he wondered, pressing his hands together in his little quirk. He looked like he missed his coin, but Hank had told him if he couldn’t have his beard then Connor couldn’t have that fucking quarter.

Hank shrugged, feeling only a little guilty at depriving the both of them for the sake of solidarity. “I don’t fucking know,” he muttered, taking Connor by the shoulder. “I think the least I deserve is a fucking drink.”

The LED cycled yellow and then blue. Connor smiled at him, a small little smile that Hank knew immediately meant he wasn’t going to get what he wanted. “Here,” he offered, putting his hand on Hank’s shoulder to steer him towards the wall. “I’ll get you that drink.”

“Hey, hey!” Connor’s grip was unrelenting. “You’re going to wrinkle this damn suit you spent so long fussing over if you keep manhandling me.”

“That won’t be an issue,” Connor said chirpily, putting Hank against the wall before he removed his hands. Or well, let go of his shoulders. His hands lingered a bit, smoothing down the creases until the suit jacket lay as perfectly as it had when they arrived. His smile was absolutely luminous. “Stay here, Hank. I will bring you back a drink.”

“With alcohol?” Hank asked, because with Connor you never knew.

Connor hummed and smiled, turning without answering, which somehow still managed to be answer enough all on its own. Hank sighed, rubbing the back of his neck ruefully as Connor flounced off into the crowd. His bitterness didn’t last long, though. Connor was an asshole on the best of days, but the view of him leaving was never a bad one. Especially in those pants. Damn.

But, it still left him alone in a crowd. Alone in a crowd of well dressed pricks he hardly wanted to chat with. Hank scanned the area around him, taking in who all was even here to begin with and who had the balls to ignore the invitation that had been taped to the breakroom fridge for the past three weeks. Most of the precinct had decided to show up from what he could tell. He picked them out of the crowd bit by bit, stumbling over the sight of them in something more dressy than their uniforms. When they caught sight of him in return, they looked just as surprised; Hank didn’t let himself get bitter about it. If it weren’t for Connor, he definitely wouldn’t be here at all.

He occupied himself with that for a minute or two, but quickly grew bored when nothing else seemed to present itself. Shifting a little awkwardly against the wall, he glanced around, eager for something to lessen the amount of stupid he must look hanging out on his own. His eyes widened when he turned left and saw he wasn’t the only one lingering like a withered old wallflower. A grin stretched Hank’s lips.

If conversation wasn’t much of an option, fucking with someone who deserved it was a very valid alternative.

Detective Gavin Reed stood about twenty feet from Hank, back against the wall and arms crossed like he had a problem with the world at large and wanted to make something of it. His gaze was steady, not scanning like Hank’s had been, and it was because of that inattention that Hank managed to walk right up to him without him noticing and clap him harshly on the shoulder, nearly tipping the man over. Hank laughed freely, not caring enough to make Gavin think it’d been unintentional. The glare it earned him was as sweet as pie, the bared teeth even more so.

“Where the fuck did you come from, Anderson?” Gavin scoffed, brushing off Hank’s hand with more force than was strictly necessary. “Did you hear the news about free booze and come running?”

Oh, so it was going to be like that, was it? “More like I heard the news you weren’t getting promoted and had to come see the shame on your face in person,” Hank retorted, savoring how Reed positively glowered at that. “It’s that android they saddled you with, isn’t it? I heard he did all the work before you even got out of bed, so they gave the collar to him instead.”

“Would you fuck off?” Reed hissed, looking like he wanted to deck him. “It’s your fucking fault the precinct even started hiring them to begin with.”

Hank rolled his eyes. He couldn’t quite argue with that since it was true; ever since he and Connor partnered up, the arrest quota in the district had gone up significantly. And with the new influx of workers in needing jobs in the city after the revolution gave way to change, hiring on the detective and law enforcement-type androids had been a no brainer. Why they decided to saddle someone like Reed with another RK model was beyond Hank though.

Speaking of which…

“Where’s your partner?” Hank wondered, savoring how Reed frowned at the title. “Don’t tell me you made him stay at home and organize your sock drawer or something.”

Reed scoffed, jerking his head towards the refreshment table. “Shouldn’t you already know?” he grumbled, looking at the table in question. “Your fucking lapdog is over there too.”

Oh. Huh. They were. No wonder Connor hadn’t come back yet with the promised drink; he was standing tableside with the RK900 model Hank had grown used to seeing around the office. Unlike work, the android was in a suit that looked as good on him as Connor’s did. It made Hank wonder about their partnership, RK900 and Reed’s. He certainly knew how close he and Connor were, but knowing how directive-oriented RK900 was…

Well, he doubted that friendship was easy to achieve.

“They certainly look chummy,” Hank muttered, watching how Connor smiled at RK900 with about as much unbridled joy as he was capable of showing. Ever since RK900 joined the precinct full time, it’d been inevitable that Connor would gravitate. Gavin rolled his eyes and Hank turned to give him a once over of his own. “How’s the spartan treating you anyway?”

Gavin, in line with how he usually was at work, just rolled his eyes and shot Hank a distasteful look. “Mind your own business, Anderson,” he muttered, staring hard at the two androids making their version of small talk over the refreshment table.

Hank raised a brow and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall to take in Gavin fully. Reed was certainly looking better than he usually did, something Hank chalked up to RK900’s efforts more than his own. Hell, Connor had done the same to him, dragging him into the shower and to the barber before even so much as letting him glance at the suit he’d brought out of the closet to be pressed and cleaned in anticipation of tonight. Gavin was neatly shaven and his hair gelled in some style that probably was considered fashionable to the younger crowd. His suit was slimcut and a little tight in the biceps and chest; he’d gained some muscle since the last time he’d worn it.

All in all, it looked like he was trying to impress someone. The chief? Hank nearly scoffed at the thought, looking out at the crowd before Reed caught him staring. Not likely the chief. Reed wasn’t the type to brown nose. Some woman then? But then again, what sort of woman could put up with his jackassery? He glanced back and saw how Gavin stared at the androids still, his knuckles turning white from the grip he had on his biceps. Well, that was certainly interesting—

“Excuse me,” Gavin said suddenly, pushing off the wall without so much as a glance Hank’s way. He strode off in a huff, a beeline straight for the refreshment table where Connor was holding out his hand to RK900 for one of their weird android data swaps.

His eyes widened when Gavin marched right up to them and snagged RK900’s hand before it could touch Connor’s, tearing it away with a glare hot on his face. Connor couldn’t quite hide his look of surprise. RK900, on the other hand, just stared at Gavin with cool intent.

Hank pushed away from the wall and moved without really realizing it, cutting through the crowd to join them just in time to hear Gavin hiss, “What if he sees something, idiot?”

“What exactly do you believe the nature of our link is, Detective Reed?” RK900 responded coolly, not bothering to break Gavin’s grip on his arm. “Perhaps you should release me and go back to your glowering.”

Hank reached Connor’s side, grin wide on his face at the look on Gavin’s. The man flushed like an angry tomato, gripping RK900 harder to tug him pointedly away. “Oh, don’t leave on my account,” Hank chuckled, discretely resting his hand on the small of Connors back. Connor glanced at him, his yellow LED instantly turning blue. “What’s the harm, Reed? Let them link up. It’s their version of schmoozing.”

“That isn’t the best analogy to make, Hank,” Connor corrected.

“It really isn’t,” RK900 agreed, ignoring Gavin summarily to look at Hank instead. God, it’d never get easier to see Connor’s face look at him like that. For all the similarities they had, the differences were far more pronounced. Where Connor was soft and lithe, RK900 was firm and broad. Eyes like chips of ice stared at him when Hank expected to see sweet brown. RK900 cocked his head in a way Connor often did, but it seemed calculating more than coy. “Good evening, Lieutenant Anderson. How do you do?”

The pleasantries would be mundane if it weren’t for the hilarious addition of Gavin still futility tugging at the immovable android’s arm. “I’m managing,” Hank said, leaning behind Connor to snag one of the drinks he’d been waiting to have brought to him. “How are you, RK… Wait, did they ever come up with a name for you?”

Gavin tugged furiously, hissing at RK900 to stop being an obstinate bastard for once in his plastic life. RK900 simply blinked, nodding his head. “Detective Reed has taken to calling me Nines,” he said placidly, looking at his partner with a look that came off as smug. “Repeated reminders of it not being my formal designation have given way to an almost begrudging acceptance on my part.” Gavin paused, staring at his android. Nines turned away from him to address Hank once more. “You may refer to me as such if it’s easier for you.”

Hank raised a brow at that. Reed named him? Really. Huh. He supposed stranger things had happened—

“Hey,” he muttered, feeling the glass disappear from his hand. He frowned at Connor who held it in his own, then full on grimaced when Connor stuck out his tongue and dipped it into the drink. “Connor, what the fuck are you doing?” he groaned, not bothering to try and snatch it back once he’d gone and done something nasty like that.

Connor pulled his tongue back into his mouth and smiled at him as if he hadn’t just done that in front of people. “Some of these drinks contain alcohol,” he supplied helpfully, swirling the glass and its contents in his hand. “I don’t want you consuming more than your allotted one drink a day. This one doesn’t seem to contain any liquor,” he said, holding it out to Hank expectantly. “So, feel free to drink this.”

“Oh, my god,” Reed breathed, reminding Hank they had an audience to Connor’s freaky little habits. “What the fuck.” He grappled for Nines’s hand, no longer yanking at his forearm but wrapping his fingers around the android’s palm. “Come on,” he muttered, giving Connor a vaguely disgusted look. “Let’s leave these freaks to their foreplay.”

“Foreplay?” Connor said at the same time as Nines. Hank and Gavin shared an awkward look, but in the end Gavin succeeded in tugging Nines away, leaving Hank to deal with Connor alone.

Connor blinked, watching them go. Hank held the glass he’d been given and debated it. Seriously debated the worth of drinking it. “What did he mean by foreplay?” Connor wondered, watching them disappear into the crowd. “We aren’t being obvious, are we?”

In the end, Hank decided to fuck it. He downed the glass of bubbly disappointment, wishing the bite it held came from something a little stronger than seltzer water. Well, seltzer and whatever fucked up combination of nastiness Connor had lurking on his tongue. “He’s just being an ass, Connor,” he said, glancing back at the drinks table to debate next the likelihood of him being able to snatch up one with alcohol before Connor noticed. “These kinds of events bring out the worst in people.”

“I’m sure you were completely polite to him too,” Connor said pleasantly, smiling when Hank gave him a side eye. “Nines seems to enjoy working with him.”

Hank raised a brow, hooking his hand around Connor’s hip to tug him away from the table. Too many people were lingering around there and it was beginning to make him a little claustrophobic. “Does he really?” he asked, unable to buy that completely. “Is he a masochist?”

Connor blinked, his brow furrowing. “I didn’t think to ask…” he murmured, a little disgruntled at the thought. “He said they work well together, though. That although Detective Reed is slow, he is fast where it counts.”

Hank rolled his eyes. “So, he likes working with him because he can steal all the collars out from under him,” he translated, grinning when Connor gave him a disapproving look. “What? You know that’s how they are. Can’t imagine Gavin actually working with a partner, especially one that can do everything he can do but better and faster.”

They slowly made their way over to the seating area where chairs had been set up in neat little rows in preparation for the speeches and ceremony. Hank took a seat and Connor did too after a moment of pondering.

“We work well together,” Connor said, resting his hands on his knees like he always did. “I don’t think you slow me down. Perhaps Nines doesn’t think so either.”

Hank shrugged, resting his arms on the backs of the chairs near him, including the one Connor occupied. “Well, it takes a special kind of prick to work with Gavin,” he said, smiling tiredly at Connor. God, he was ready to call it a night already. “Just like it takes a special kind of asshole to work with me.”

Connor blinked. He cocked his head, a frown curling his lips. “I’m an asshole?”

The swear sounded so odd coming from him. Hank shrugged again, looking out at the empty stage. “Must be if we get along this well.” The stage was empty of people, sure, but the awards and plaques to be handed out later were already in place and on display. A dozen or so would be handed out to the up-and-comers, the diligent do-gooders, the ladder climbers and brown nosers and all the pricks in the department who longed to get a bigger office and fatter paycheck.

Hank tipped his head back to frown at the ceiling. “I better get a lot of good karma for coming to this thing,” he muttered, drawing Connor’s attention. He glanced at the android with a bitter expression. “If I’m not getting an award it’s the least I deserve.”

Instead of saying something, Connor’s LED cycled yellow. He stared critically at Hank and Hank slowly lifted his head, raising a brow when Connor just stared a little harder. What was he thinking so hard about? He lifted a hand to self-consciously check his hair, only to startle a little when that seemed to spark movement from the android.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Connor said quietly, standing up and slipping away before Hank could quite process he’d been abandoned. He turned and watched Connor navigate the crowd as sure-footedly as any mountain goat, smiling and making platitudes to those who tried to greet him or introduce themselves to the Detroit Police Department’s resident RK800 model.

Hank’s stomach sank the moment Connor disappeared out of sight. Fuck. Was it something he’d said? It wasn’t the first time Hank had called Connor an asshole, but it was probably the first time he’d done so since they started sleeping together. Ugh. He really was on his own now, well and truly.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck._ He turned back around to face the stage, overly aware of how few people were sitting this early in the evening. Hank pulled out his phone and checked the time, sinking his teeth into his inner cheek when he saw how much time was still left before the toasts began. Should he get back up? Go after Connor? Well, if Connor wanted to be alone or something, it probably wasn’t best to go chasing him down… But fuck, Hank didn’t want to be alone in a hellscape like this.

Should he—God forbid—try to find Gavin or RK900— _Nines_? It was times like these that he began to regret not being a social butterfly at work.

He bounced his leg and pretended he was doing something on his phone. Doing what, exactly, he couldn’t say; Hank barely knew how the thing worked outside of making calls and—if he were being adventurous—sending a few texts here and there. He opened up the camera and fiddled with it for a few minutes, then deleted some old emails. The minutes passed by glacially slow, and every few seconds he couldn’t help but look up, checking for Connor who seemed to have disappeared entirely from the room.

It was approaching the fifteenth minute of solitude and shame when a text message rattled Hank’s phone. He nearly dropped it in surprise. A glimmer of hope filled him at the chance for something to do, and he opened the message center eagerly, only be a little surprised when he saw Connor’s name blinking at him from the title screen. Connor? He didn’t have a phone of his own, so he… he what? He sent Hank a message?

[From _Connor_ , Sent 7:01]

_Come to the restroom, please._

Hank held the phone a little closer to his face. The… restroom? He glanced around, spotting a sign pointing to the hall where the nearest one was located. _What are you doing in a bathroom???_ He responded quickly, jumping a little when the response came instantly.

[From _Connor,_ Sent 7:03]

_Waiting for you._

Cheeky fucking brat. Hank frowned and considered his options. Go meet Connor in the restroom or sit out here until someone took pity on him and talked to him…

Fuck, could he call them options when the latter was just torture?

Sighing, Hank rattled off another text saying _Fine._ Connor responded with a smiley face. Because of course he had emojis in his brain processor thing. Of course.

Given the night and all its definite miseries still to come, Hank decided to ignore that little surprise to focus instead on finding Connor. The crowd had swelled even more since they arrived, the main focus of the evening coming to fruition within the next half hour or so. Ball gowns and suits filled the space, and Hank did his best to be polite as he pushed his way through until he reached the branching hall that would take him to the restrooms.

It was a little shocking how stark the difference was between the hall and the atrium. The design elements from before continued on through the space, the trim on the walls still gold leaf and Rococo-fancy bullshit, but the noise was nearly absent completely. Only a few people milled around this far from the party, most likely those who needed a break from the heat and conversation. Hank kept his eyes forward, pretending he wasn’t looking for someone, and moved to the lonely restroom the moment he saw the door for it. He turned the crystal knob and stepped inside, blinking blearily in the dim, gold-tinged light.

Wow, this bathroom was fancy. The sinks were laid in granite counters, the faucets automatic and swan necked. Small cloth towels rested near them on a rack, waiting and ready for use. The wall above the sink was entirely built of mirrors, giving Hank a good look at himself in all his uncomfortable glory. He turned away after a few seconds of staring. He almost looked respectable, but he hadn’t come in here to find that of all things.

“Um, Connor?” Hank called out, wincing at the stupidity of it all. What the hell would Connor need to do in the restroom of all places? Fix his hair? He walked inside fully and closed the door behind him, glancing around at the empty area and silent stalls. “Fuck, did I get the wrong bathroom?”

“Hank?”

Relief and curiosity warred it out in Hank’s chest, settling somewhere between the two when he pinpointed Connor’s location towards the rear of the stalls. “Connor, what the hell do you need? The toasts are going to start soon.” Was he just standing in there? The fuck was he doing?

The stall door opened an inch, and Hank moved closer to peer inside.

He startled horribly when a hand shot out from within and grabbed him by the shirtfront, dragging him inside before he could process what the fuck just happened.

Hank stumbled and caught himself on the top of the stall door, a curse on his tongue and fire in his eyes. “What the fuck—” he tried to say, only to actually look at Connor fully. The second he did was the second all words—all thoughts—dried up before they had a chance to be made. Connor hadn’t been standing in here doing nothing.

He’d been standing in here getting naked.

Connor was pantless and jacketless, standing in the middle of the stall with his discarded garments folded and hanging neatly on the bar meant to help people stand. His fancy tie was tossed over the bundle, his shirt unbuttoned and just barely covering the tight black briefs he wore beneath it all. Connor bit his lip and tried to smile, his LED yellow to show he was nervous, unsure, wondering whether or not he’d done something Hank wanted. Hank covered his eyes with a hand, wondering the same thing himself.

“What,” he said succinctly, “the hell do you think you’re doing?”

There was a beat of silence. Hank lowered his hand, flushing a little when his eyes couldn’t seem to stop roaming up and down Connor’s perfect body. “Oh,” Connor murmured, slowly clutching at his open shirt to cover up a little. “Did you… Do you not want to have sex with me?”

Hank’s mouth went dry. The dull sound of conversation rose up from just outside the bathroom walls, and he quickly took a step into the stall and shut the door before someone peered inside and caught sight of Connor like this. “What the hell, Connor,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair only to realize, once again, that he’d been shorn like a sheepdog not even six hours ago. Fuck, that didn’t help things. “Why did you think I wanted to have sex with you here?”

Connor blinked up at him, innocent in all respects but for the fact that he had come here, stripped, and then called Hank here for the purpose of having a quickie with all of their coworkers just outside. “You said… You asked for a reward for putting up with all of this…” he said slowly, furrowing his brow as his LED turned yellow. “Isn’t this what that usually entails?”

“You… I can’t believe this,” Hank groaned, covering his face with his hands. He sagged against the stall door at his back, his heart pounding in his ears and the damn tie choking him through it all. Yanking at the tie helped one of those problems, but Connor was still waiting on him to say something. Waiting with his pants gone and his shirt open, his pale skin peeking through the lazy attempt he made at covering himself from sight.

Hank swallowed when Connor took a cautious step closer. A hand settled on his chest, smoothing down the tie. “Hank?” Connor whispered, tilting his head up enticingly. Did he know what he was doing right now? What he was implying he wanted them to do? “Do you want your reward? We can wait until we get home, but my calculations have placed now as the ideal time for a tryst.”

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” he asked, voice low and husky despite his better judgement. Connor leaned in, his chest to Hank’s chest, their lips a hair’s breadth apart.

“The toast is in twenty minutes,” Connor told him, eyes going distant for the split second he needed to process the question and compile an answer. “Those who are needed to present it have already made their way to the stage. Any person of merit will already be in place; if someone needs to use the restroom, they’ll have already gone or plan on waiting until its over.”

Connor leaned in and kissed Hank, closing his eyes before pulling back just enough to smile. “That leaves us with precisely seventeen minutes of viable time for copulation,” he breathed, somehow making the clinical observations sound sexy. “That is, if you want to. Every second you wait is one less we have to get started.”

Hank’s eyes fell to half mast. His hands went to Connor’s hips, the gravity between them too strong to resist. “You really want to do this?” he asked, unable to hate the idea when the alternative was to go back to that fucking party. “What if someone sees?”

Shrugging, Connor averted his eyes. “It’s good to be spontaneous,” he decided, going up on his toes to kiss him again. Chastely, just a tease. “Sixteen point nine.”

“Uh… what?”

Warm brown eyes met his, Connor’s smile bright. “You have sixteen point nine minutes now to fuck me, Hank. I suggest you get to it.”

Hank snorted, gripping Connor’s hips tight. It was all the warning he gave him before he spun him around, putting Connor’s back to the stall door. Connor gasped prettily, but then again, he did everything prettily. Hank let his eyes rove along his bare body, his hands following to touch skin that was already heating up. A bulge had formed in Connor’s briefs while they talked. They really weren’t going to waste time with this, were they? Probably for the best.

“Take these off,” Hank told him, hooking his finger in the waistband to snap it against Connor’s hip. “Get yourself wet once they’re off. We don’t really have time to be nice about this.”

“I assumed as much,” Connor said easily, stripping the underwear from his legs as fast as he could manage. While he busied himself with that, Hank shucked his jacket and went to work on his own pants, shoving them down his thighs to bare his cock and not much else. With Connor standing in front of him like this, body bare and lubricant already dripping down his inner thighs, it didn’t take long for Hank to get hard. A few pumps of his hand sped it along even more, and within a minute or so he was looking at Connor, at the space they occupied, imagining how best to make this happen.

When it came down to it though, thinking wasn’t really his style. He backed Connor up against the door, looking down at him with heat enough to make the android color. He had his pleasure sensors on, didn’t he? Hank didn’t bother resisting the shiver that ran down his spine; he settled instead on hooking a hand around Connor’s thigh, dragging it up and over his hip until they were pressed together and the tip of his cock teased the slick wetness between Connor’s legs.

“Hold onto me,” Hank told him, seeking out his lips for a kiss.

Connor nodded, melting into it. His arms wrapped around Hank’s shoulders, his fingers running through the short cropped hair at the base of his skull. He made a soft little noise, just the ghost of a whimper, and it was all Hank could take before he gripped his cock by the base and pressed inside Connor in one smooth, practiced thrust.

This was a horrible idea, Hank realized quickly. Connor felt so fucking good. They broke the kiss by necessity, Hank staggering forward to plaster Connor against the door, needing the support it offered before he collapsed from sheer need. Warm, tight, wet— Connor was perfect. So fucking perfect, and when Hank managed the strength to look him in the eye, he saw awe reflected back at him.

“Hank,” Connor whispered, his little curl of hair bouncing as Hank slowly began to move. “Don’t be gentle. We don’t have much time.”

“Shut up,” he grunted, holding Connor tighter, breathing in the clean scent of his skin. He’d never been good at moving fast with this brat. Even with a timer ticking above their heads, his first instinct was to take it slow and make it good for the one who hadn’t known any different with him.

But fuck, Connor didn’t seem to feel the same. He wriggled and writhed, arching his back against the stall door to make the pace faster than Hank intended it to be, to make each thrust deeper than planned. Hank stifled a groan and thrust forward in sharp, rapid succession, punching little sounds of pleasure from Connor. Fast didn’t suit them, but it suited the moment. It suited this bathroom and it suited the filthiness of doing something like this at a black tie gala event.

And wasn’t that a heady fucking thought? The fact that they were fucking with the entire police force of Detroit just outside those doors. Hank gave Connor what he wanted; he moved a little faster, fucked him a little harder, lost in the feeling of doing something so fucking base when they could be caught at any moment.

Fuck, he’d never thought that’d be such a turn on for him. Connor gripped him tighter, clenching with every thrust. His inner walls milked Hank’s cock in rhythmic little pulses. It’d be over soon. It needed to be. They had shit do, people to meet, smiles to fake and _fuck_ , Hank wanted to cum inside Connor and make him walk around with it inside his ass, knowing what he’d done underneath that neat little suit—

Everything came grinding to a halt when the door to the restroom rattled and opened, the sounds from the hall filtering inside to dash their intimate little moment to pieces like a bird striking the windshield of a car.

Hank stifled the knee jerk urge to swear, gripping Connor by the hips in a blind panic. He jerked him off the floor and stumbled back a few steps, falling on top of the closed toilet seat with his cock still buried inside Connor’s tight ass. A thud issued from the move, but Hank could tell it went unnoticed. Whoever it was that entered hadn’t done so quietly; voices were filling the tiled room, smothering their horror before it could give them away.

“Woah, what do you think you’re doing?” a horribly familiar voice grunted, sending a stab of fear through Hank’s chest. Gavin _fucking_ Reed stomped his way into the restroom, spitting up a storm, and it didn’t take a genius to guess who it was dragging him every step of the way.

“You are being entirely unprofessional,” Nines reported in his cool, collected voice. Hank met eyes with Connor, fear alive and well in them both, and scrambled to lift their legs up so they wouldn’t be seen under the stall door. “Do you have a problem with me conversing with other people? If so, I would ask that you see to solving it on your own before you cause friction with our coworkers.”

“Is that what this is about?” Gavin let out a snort of laughter. Hank had the decided impression he was looking at himself in the large mirror, ignoring Nines to primp. “You’re fucking insane.”

A shift in the air shot through the room. Connor, who had been dazed and out of it up until now, snapped to attention, his head turning as if he could see through the stall door. Gavin grunted and let out a weak, high-pitched sound. Hank’s mouth fell open in a gape, an image forming in the back of his mind that he prayed wasn’t right.

Gavin’s back against the sink counter; Nines pinning him to it, towering over him with those cold, blue eyes. Connor was on alert, so it meant something intense was going down. Hank began to sweat, his cock feeding off the stress. Did that mean… Oh, fuck. Did Nines know they were in here?

“If you want my attention, Gavin,” Nines said in a silky, low voice, “you only need to ask for it.”

Holy fucking shit.

Gavin let out a breathless laugh. “Look who’s got a smart mouth all of a sudden. What is it? You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours?” Gavin breathed, his voice low and husky in a way that Hank knew in the pit of his stomach couldn’t mean anything good was coming. When the shifting of fabric filled the air, the telltale thud of someone’s knees hitting the tile floor, Hank knew he was right.

“Look how fucking good you look on your knees,” Gavin narrated for them all, his mouth a fucking gutter. “Open up for me— Yes, just like that. God, look at that mouth. That sexy fucking mouth. You’ve been teasing me with it all night, you little slut. Tell me you’re hungry for my cock.”

“Gavin,” Nines whispered.

A pause. “Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

It took everything in Hank not to snort. Kissing Connor helped him resist the urge. He should’ve figured someone like Reed would have a potty mouth when it came to these kinds of things. Good to know Nines didn’t put up with it much. Connor closed his eyes and melted into the kiss, looping his arms around Hank’s shoulders. He rocked up and down gently, content to keep going despite the company they had just outside the stall door.

And it was good they were so easily distracted with one another, because Gavin and Nines weren’t shy about plowing on ahead with their own business. The sound of a zipper being undone cut through the haze of lust Hank was quickly losing himself in, and what still remained was nearly chased away completely when Gavin let out a loud, choked moan.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, Nines finally putting his mouth to better use. “Fuck, baby, please. That’s it, that’s fucking it. Yeah, take it all, Nines. Turn on your sensors. I want you to feel me fuck your pretty mouth.”

Connor let out a shudder. Hank stroked through his hair and tried to ask what it was, but Connor just looked at him with eyes nearly black with want. His pale pink lips parted, his tongue slipping out to lap at Hank’s cheek and ear. Hank closed his eyes and struggled to hold back a noise, rocking his hips a little harder when Connor began to clench around him.

“Bet this is getting you so fucking hard,” Gavin went on, his mouth working independently of his brain. “Look at you; just fucking look at you. Cool as anything but I can tell— Oh, fuck, ngh, I can tell. You fucking cockslut—”

He cut himself off with a moan loud enough to mask one of Hank’s as Connor gave a devastating twist to his hips.

It didn’t last enough though to cover Connor’s weak little gasp.

For a second, everything seemed to freeze in place. Hank stared at Connor and Connor stared at him, lips parted and eyes dazed and too drunk on pleasure to care that he might have just given them away. Hank bit his lip and strained his ears, waiting for the sound of footsteps or an angry shout or—

“Was that… Oh, fuck, baby,” Gavin groaned, sounding a second away from coming. “Fuck, Nines. Did you just moan?”

Hank nearly choked on his tongue. Of course. Of course, he’d assume it was Nines before he thought Connor might be in a stall getting fucked blind. Hank gripped Connor’s hips and hid his face in the android’s shoulder, grinning like a loon and more than a little drunk on the thrill himself. Gavin kept on moaning, entirely disregarding the raspy little, “No,” Nines gave as an answer. The android had to know they were in here, but so long as Gavin got off quickly, he didn’t seem to care enough to bother letting Gavin know.

And what was it Connor had said before? The reason RK900 liked Gavin was because he was fast where it counted. Hank gripped Connor’s hips and bit down on his lip harshly, trying and losing the battle to keep from laughing. God, he’d meant this, hadn’t he? Fuck, that was rich. Good thing Nines didn’t hate that little part of Gavin, cause Hank highly doubted anyone else was fond of it.

“F-Fuck,” Gavin groaned, his voice weak and shaky. “Fuck, Nines, goddamn. I’m going to fuck you so hard when we get home. Gonna fuck that tight little ass of yours for being so good.”

There came a wet, lewd sound, one Hank vaguely recognized as the sound of a dick falling out of a mouth with a pop. The room filled with the sound of heavy breathing. “Gavin,” Nines breathed, his voice somehow coming off used even though it was impossible for the android to be fucked raw.

“Do you want that, gorgeous?” Reed crooned. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

Gavin let out a low growl. Hank buried his face in Connor’s shoulder, fucking into him faster, hurrying along, eager to bring them both off before something gave way and changed for the worst. Connor made another soft sound, one Gavin mistook for Nines again, and shuddered in his arms. Close. He was close, and so was Hank. If they could just get another few—

The sound of shifting fabric cut through the haze; Nines stood up, and Gavin didn’t leave him alone for long once he was upright. The wet sound of kissing followed. Hank followed their lead, seeking out Connor’s lips to muffle his instinctive moan as he wormed his hand between them, gripping Connor’s cock and stroking it quick, hard, as fast as he could manage given their current angle.

“Gonna take you home and bend you over the bed,” Gavin murmured, his words muffled. “Gonna make a mess of you. A fuckin’ mess.”

“If you think you can last that long,” Nines teased, his voice clear even when Gavin let out a deprived little grunt. “Now, fix your pants. No more of me until we’re home.”

“What the hell, you want to stop now?”

 _Yes, please_ , Hank begged, sinking his teeth into Connor’s nape to keep from groaning. Connor, the little tease, kept clenching with every thrust. _Please fucking leave. For the love of god, just leave._

“The toasts are about to begin; we need to be there for them.” Nines, ever the voice of reason, seemed to move away from Gavin. The sound of footsteps picked up, moving away from the stalls and towards the far door. “Come on,” he called back, a note of impatience in his voice. “Let’s go already.”

“Well, give me a fucking second here,” Gavin groused, the sound of his zipper cutting through his annoyance easily. More footsteps. “You can’t just suck the soul out through my dick one minute and expect me to go back to business the next.”

“If you were efficient to even the slightest degree, I could,” the android replied, hurrying Gavin along with a pointed jerk. Gavin grunted and grumbled, but within a minute or so they left, the restroom door closing behind them with a dull thud.

Connor lifted his head, sharing a look with Hank that didn’t need words to be understood.

Hank waited two whole seconds before letting out a pained groan, bucking his hips upwards in a harsh thrust that nearly jostled Connor right out of his lap. The android cried out brokenly, artificial tears pouring from his eyes. “H-Hank,” he wheezed, his fingers digging into Hank’s shoulders. “Hank, please, please I need—”

“I know,” Hank grunted, taking him by the waist to pound into him as hard as he could manage. “Fuck, fuck, I want you to cum. Do it, Connor,” he ordered, meeting Connor’s eyes. “You were so good. Cum for me.”

And after being edged for so long, it didn’t take much more than that. Connor closed his eyes and seized up, his spine stiff and his lips parted in a choked little moan. Cum, or whatever it was Connor had for cum, spurted from his cock in even little bursts, dripping down his chest to collect atop his thighs. His ass, naturally, tightened— Hank let out a groan that echoed through the bathroom, spilling inside Connor until the android was as messy inside as he was outside.

“Oh, god-fucking-damn,” Hank groaned, sagging against the wall behind the toilet. His body felt hot, his muscled aching. “That was… Jesus Christ.”

Connor tipped forward, resting his forehead against Hank’s shoulder as he trembled and shook. His LED cycled yellow, stuttering blue until it managed to pick a color and relax. “It was,” he agreed, even though he probably didn’t know what he was saying.

“I guess we know why they get along now,” Hank muttered, staring up at the patterned ceiling above their heads. He managed to summon the strength to lift a hand, stroking down Connor’s spine in lazy, slow passes. “ _Fuck_.”

“Sorry.”

Hank raised a brow and looked at Connor who hid his face from sight. Hank tugged on his hair until he looked up. “Sorry? What do you have to be sorry about?” It certainly wasn’t Connor’s fault that Gavin was into an ice queen.

Connor frowned, his dark brown eyes managing to look pitiful and hesitant all at once. “For seducing you,” he said evenly. “I should have run the calculations better. If I’d known someone else would come in here—”

Rolling his eyes, Hank took Connor by the back of the neck and pulled his face into his shoulder. “You’re being stupid,” he muttered, shifting a little as his cum began to drip out of Connor around his cock. “This was my reward, wasn’t it? Don’t apologize for it. But maybe get up. I think we’re about to make a mess.”

Connor clutched at Hank’s shirt, nuzzling him for the barest hint of a second. Or maybe it was just a nod. He pulled away easily enough, cheeks tinged with a blush he shouldn’t wear and hair mussed in a way that was less than inconspicuous. Hank began tearing off toilet paper as Connor assessed the nature of the mess, and with a bout of teamwork too practiced to be anything but, they managed to pull apart without too much damage done to Hank’s suit or Connor’s shirt.

But ugh. Hank’s skin felt too hot for the layers. Sweat coated him beneath the clothes, and all he wanted was a shower. He made do with the toilet paper for the moment, flushing away the evidence of their little tryst. Hank helped Connor dress. Well, helped might be generous. Hindered was more like it, since he couldn’t seem to get enough of Connor’s bare skin, but Connor was persistent and responsible enough for the both of them. Before long they were both as put together as they were likely to get.

“We will be three minutes late to the toast,” Connor reported quietly, finishing up the last button on his suit jacket. He lifted his head once it was done, shifting a little guiltily. “Should we leave one at a time to make it look natural?”

Hank didn’t have the heart to tell him they’d need to do a hell of a lot more than just leave at different times to make their absence anything but conspicuous. Instead, he smiled. Connor cocked his head, waiting patiently for his answer, and Hank just took a step closer to him and backed him up against the stall door once more.

“Hank?” he whispered, LED cycling through yellow then blue then yellow. “Shouldn’t we go?”

Go to an awards show filled with people he hated, with fucking Gavin and Nines, with those upstarts and brown nosers and ladder climbers who only saw him as another step to the top.

Should they go? Sure.

Did Hank want to? Hell no.

“Fuck it,” Hank said, leaning down to kiss him blue. Fuck them and fuck that.

After all, it wasn’t like they were giving him an award tonight.

Connor, on the other hand…

Well, that was always a sure bet.

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this thing, you all have no idea. If you liked it and enjoyed yourself, consider leaving a comment and checking out more of my work on tumblr (terminallydepraved). And, did you know I also write books and original fiction? You can find me under the name T.D. Cloud if you're interested in checking out my work on amazon! Either way, I appreciate the support!


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